Cacophony
by Elven Ink
Summary: **COMPLETE** A single note topples down the stave, and the symphony descends into a cacophony. When the theories are correct, gravity is a harness. But one note out of place turns the harness into a cage. Dr Siebren de Kuiper is no stranger to cages, but he never though his life's work would turn against him so.


"I'm starting to consider you something of a hypocrite, Dr De Kuiper."

With a sharp inhalation and a painful jolting of his back, Siebren lurched up from where he had evidently fallen asleep at his desk. His face twisted as he stretched out the stiffness in his spine from having been hunched over, bones popping and reminding him that he really wasn't of the age to be sleeping in his lab anymore.

A lithe hand quite unlike his own reached out to peel a stray document that had stuck to Siebren's cheek — his rather poor excuse of a pillow for the previous night. "How many nights have you chased me from my research to _go and sleep_, yet here you are. Drooling into," his research partner glanced at the paper she had removed from Siebren's face, "..._my _research paper."

"Hmm, then the blame lies in your writing, Dr O'Deorain," the man offered by means of rebuttal. "I did not mean to fall asleep in the lab. Your research paper sent me to sleep, no?"

Moira O'Deorain was not a scientist who accepted constructive criticism. Siebren had been told this years ago when the 25-year old brilliance had applied to the role of research partner he had posted out into the scientific community. Apparently, this included criticism in jest.

A single eyebrow arched. Despite having worked together for three years now, Moira had not warmed much to Siebren's humour. She often told him she did not laugh simply because "you're not funny, Siebren, you're _rude_."

"I could hardly expect an _astrophysicist_ to appreciate the finer details of science a little closer to home," Moira noted curtly. "Not all brilliance and beauty must be found in the stars, Siebren. There's universal wonder to be found right within the human body too; a whole universe of potential."

"I hope that there is," Siebren smiled, trying to smooth over the jagged edges of Moira's frayed patience. He shoved his feet back into his shoes, having kicked them off the moment he had sat down to work the night before; a habit of his whenever he was working that often irked Moira as well. The man then got to his feet, stretching out the last of the restless and uncomfortable sleep he had subjected himself to. "Or I will have wasted your time bringing you here."

Their fields of work, from the outside, looked rather unrelated. Dr Siebren de Kuiper looked to the universe above, while Dr O'Deorain's fascination was the oft-overlooked potential of humanity. Siebren looked to bring the awe of space down to something more earthly and useable, and Moira sought to elevate the mediocrity of humanity up to new and dizzying heights. Their work had crossed paths a few years ago when, after decades of study into gravity as a potential force to be harnessed, Siebren had come up with a theory of utilising gravitational energy as a personal shield. But the mechanics of such an application were tangled — could a device handle a controlled form of gravity without destroying itself, or would the application need to be at a genetic level, with people utilising the tiny gravitational fields surrounding every particle in their body? Could this be amplified at will to create personal shielding, and more? These were the questions that brought a relatively new, yet quickly renowned geneticist Moira to his door.

She had been followed like the tail of a comet by rumours, whispers, and from Siebren's point of view, jealousy. He had paid those words little mind — after all, what sort of scientist worth their salt would listen to anything other than proof and evidence?

"Hmph," Moira offered back, a noise that Siebren knew now was as close to her accepting any kind of apology. It was her 'smile' to say he'd gotten away with whatever perceived slight she had been irritated at, and thankfully, it had become more frequent in the last twelve months of their working relationship. "Coffee? I'm contractually obliged not to let you near any equipment until you're caffeinated."

Her lilting drawl followed her as Moira made her way to the makeshift kitchenette area. Siebren's lab may once have been state-of-the-art, but the outward appearance of it was little more than futuristic junkyard where everything was precisely in order to Siebren's mind only. Though the man was far from disliked in the field, he often struggled to find suitable research associates or partners for this reason. His eccentricity was as well-known as his research, and it was enjoyed by his fellow scientists — but only from afar.

Moira quickly returned with two mugs in hand. One was a simple black coffee, the other was a heinous act of sin upon the humble coffee bean. Siebren took the offered black coffee, a critical glance thrown at Moira's own drink. As far as he was concerned, if coffee was meant to be milky and sweet, there would be milk and sugar in the bean. Still, he'd already teased Moira once this morning. He would not risk a comment on her rather uncharacteristic way of taking her morning coffee, lest he end up wearing it (and not for the first time).

"I was thinking about the hypothesis you posed last night," Moira said, taking a sip of her coffee and sharp eyes _telling_ Siebren silently that she knew he had judged her. "Regarding the use of—"

The discussion was cut off before it could even start by a shrill ring. Moira stared at Siebren, expression slack with shock. Siebren stared back, brow furrowing a little. He hadn't heard such a sound in this lab before, but none of the equipment surrounding them was active.

"Ah!" The man leapt into action, realising what it was that was making the noise. He began leafing under papers, books, and pieces of half-finished technology strewn around them. Eventually, he found what he was looking for: a telephone, hidden for years beneath a mountain of documents.

"A _telephone_? Does that thing still have _wires?_" Moira asked, incredulous as the man scowled at her. She did so like to highlight the decade or so between them.

"Goedemorgen, u spreekt met Dokter De Kuiper—oh. Avdotya...I thought I made myself clear last time," Siebren's tone quickly shifted from curiosity to sharply irritated upon realising who had phoned. Avdotya Volskya was not a woman to take 'no' for an answer, and at this point Siebren was simply trying to avoid her until she finally passed Volskya Industries on to her daughter, Katya. He had heard that Katya was not quite so invested in the pursuit of weaponry as her mother, but how long that would last remained to be seen. "There has been no further breakthrough because I am not _looking _to achieve such a thing. Avdotya, what you're suggesting is—no, but a weapon is a weapon, my dear! The war has been over for quite some time now, there is no need to—yes, I _understand _the theory, I came up with the majority of it! But we are no longer at _war_, so finding a way to drag them from their shields is arbitrary now! No, I—"

Siebren felt the handset being pulled from his hand and he jumped a little as Moira appeared at his side. She put the phone against her ear as though it were some alien technology, and spoke crisply:

"This is Siebren's wife. If you call this number again, I'll show you what happens when a single gene is mutated in your entire workforce. Good day."

With that, she hung the phone up and gave Siebren a withering look. "If you disagree with someone, tell them then end the conversation. There's no need for debate."

"..._Wife?_!_" _Siebren managed to splutter, grey eyes wide with shock. It wasn't a word he'd had much success with in the past, and it wasn't a word he would have thought Moira thought much about either.

She merely shrugged.

"Apparently, it makes people uncomfortable to think they have intruded on a relationship. She shouldn't call for the rest of the day, at least. Shall we?"

* * *

Indeed, Siebren had not been pursued by Volskya that day, nor for a number of days following. For that, he was thankful. The woman's paranoia about the Omnics was tiresome, and she seemed ready to arm her country for a second war that everyone else was hoping to avoid. Building weapons was seldom a good way to maintain peace, and Siebren did not wish to see his work become such a thing. Gravity as a harness had so much potential across so many sectors, but he was no fool. He knew well that if gravity could be manipulated and unleashed, it would make for a fearsome weapon — peeling soldiers away from formation, dragging Omnics from their shields, crushing bones and metal to the ground under impossible pressure.

Avdotya wanted such a weapon. She had envisioned a tank-mounted particle cannon capable of using Siebren's gravity research to shield allies by manipulating gravitational fields to repel bullets and projectiles from enemy forces. On this front, Siebren had almost agreed with her. But the offensive element of the blueprints she had once presented him with had drawn a deep rift between the pair. A _gravity bomb_, she called it. An _unchecked black hole_, Siebren named it. It would be small, but size was hardly a measure of a black hole's destructive nature. It would drag all in its surroundings to cluster around it, not large enough to devour these poor souls and objects, but big enough to render them helpless for whatever was to come afterwards.

The phone call had been a pleasantry, it seemed. Within a few weeks, Volskya agents were at his door. He'd been 'employed', they told him, for a brief stint at an international space station. Volskya Industries was to conduct an important experiment, a culmination of the Tobelsteins' work. Volskya Industries always hired the best. And when they couldn't they hired _second best_ astrophysicists like the Tobelsteins. But clearly they lacked the understanding to fully realise the project to completion...otherwise, Volskya wouldn't be chasing him down to finish it for them. He was the best in the field, they had told him. Flattery Siebren had elected to ignore.

But now, faced with three agents and a small screen showing someone dear to him being monitored closely...now, it was not flattery that made Siebren bend to Volskya's will. No, it was something that the flame-haired woman on that little screen would be quite appalled at no doubt — _concern_.

"If I come with you," Siebren asked, doing little to hide the venom in his voice, "you will not approach her?"

"Dr O'Deorain will not be harmed, you have our word."

At this, Siebren scoffed.

"Harmed? Please...I am coming with you so she doesn't have need to harm you fools if you tried."

* * *

The long journey had afforded Siebren time to read over the Tobelstein siblings' work. It was adequate. But when it came to gravity, adequate was hardly comforting. Nor was the fact that neither of the Tobelsteins seemed willing to conduct this experiment themselves. It needed as 'expert touch', he had been told. No room for error. As though the only concern in the event of such an error would be the pricey destruction of an international space station on Volskya Industries' name. And not, potentially, the end of the world should a black hole be inadvertently formed.

The experiment aimed to harness gravity into a workable, manipulatable field. For shielding, Avdotya had assured him over comms during the journey to the space station. Siebren had cast a critical eye over the notes once more. Shielding indeed. Yes, there were notes on personal shields, bubbles of a sort formed from harnessed gravitational fields. It was quite promising, though the 'breakthroughs' made by the Tobelsteins here were ones Siebren himself had made years ago.

There was a reason he had not yet experimented further or to such a scale as this. It simply wasn't stable enough yet. The risk of losing grip of the gravity generation and manipulation was too great. If it was not held onto, if it was not kept in check, even for a millisecond...if the field failed, if the harness snapped...gravity would harness _everything _around it instead.

The risk was too great.

He should never have taken on a research associate. The risk was too great.

He should never have formed that bond. The risk was too great.

_Leverage_.

* * *

Siebren had not allowed any of the offered assistants hired by Volskya into the experiment room directly. To them, he had snapped and said they would be a hinderance to his work — arrogance had led him to walk into that room alone. In truth, Siebren had been afraid. He had been afraid of what could happen; he was afraid because he couldn't quite see clearly what may happen. This experiment, the theory was sound enough, but in practice? Nothing like this had ever been attempted yet, and with good reason. The reduction of risk had not yet been achieved to a satisfactory level.

Still, he had applied everything he could to stabilising the experiment. He had brought his own equipment with him, made improvements and adjustments, stalled for as long as he could. In the end, Siebren had to admit a small spark of excitement snuck into his heart. If the experiment was a success...well, it could very well be the breakthrough he needed to truly begin to harness gravity on a larger scale. On a useful scale. This could be the catalyst that set his research free at last.

For the first minute of the experiment being active, Siebren thought it had been a success. Adapting the Tobelstein generator along with his own gravity-manipulation gauntlets, he was able to push and pull a small gravitational field between his hands, like a tiny, barely-visible bubble. Small, yes, but harnessed! It was a massive leap forward — until the experiment lurched forward.

"Why?!"

The situation snapped quickly from successful to critical. In a heartbeat the small gravitational field between Siebren's hands had shivered violently and became too dense, the momentum too great. He could feel its force vibrating up his arms from wrist to shoulder, rattling his bones, pulling and tearing at his very self.

"This is wrong!" Siebren yelled, desperation threading through his voice; someone had to hear him! Someone had to shut this experiment down, now! And yet, some awful, tiny voice in the back of his head hissed that this would not happen. It would not happen for a very simple reason.

It was deliberate. Someone had increased the inputs, density, mass, momentum, it was too much to hold onto...

"The field is failing!"

He could not, would not let go of the rapidly spinning orb forming in front of him. With every fibre of his being, Siebren tried to contain the terror that could not be denied before his eyes: a black hole was forming where the gravitational field was failing, becoming unstable.

_Hold it together! Hold it together! Hold it together! _

If he didn't, everyone aboard this station was dead.

_Hold it together! _

If he failed, this monstrous force of nature would destroy them.

_Hold it together! _

If he couldn't, everyone he knew…

_HOLD IT TOGETHER. _

Siebren's vision blurred and vibrated, perfect darkness suffocating his eyes as light itself was sapped and drawn into the black hole. Light, air, mass, matter, everything was being torn and devoured. It rattled his whole body and splintered through his head, and he could only hold on to the one thought that kept him conscious:

_Hold it together!_

Everything was an illusion before a black hole. Everything equal and destructible. Light. Matter. Memories. Body. Mind. It was too much to hold on to, but Siebren could not fathom the consequences if the black hole slipped from his control for even a moment. He held on, letting go of everything else in order to do so — his mind, his memories, his body, everything was cast away that he might hold on to this terrible force.

It hurt. No, it didn't. Yes, it did. No, it was—both. Siebren had never felt agony like the sensation that clawed through his entirety, burrowing to such a level that the man could no longer tell which pain was physical and which was mental. Each time he thought it had peaked, that it was not physically possible to feel more than the torment he was subjected to, it proved him wrong.

The next would kill him...the next would kill him...it had to kill him...he couldn't possibly survive this...he didn't want to survive th—no, hold it together...hold it together.

Everything was slipping through Siebren's fingers, like sand, like dust...drawn and swallowed by the black hole he should never have been so _close _to. Memories, thoughts, names...faces, smiles, fears...gone. Torn to shreds as if cast to a tornado, and he was standing in the eye of the storm, watching it all swirl around him, too fast, too loud, it's too much—

As the tattered remnants of his mind and memories danced in the storm around him, Siebren could have _sworn _he heard a distant melody, a symphony softly falling.

An ode to his ruin.

* * *

_What happened? _

Siebren couldn't recall. How had he arrived here? One minute he was wrestling with the universe's perfect destructive force, doing everything he could to prevent it from escalating. The next, it was gone, and he was lying on a bed...no, he quickly realised, he was _strapped _to the bed. He couldn't move his arms or legs, nor even his head.

_Where am I?_

Everything hurt, the lights above, the wheels rattling beneath his back — where was he going? Who was pushing this gurney along? Where was he?

_Why am I being imprisoned? _

Fear struck through him so suddenly Siebren nearly yelled out in terror, or, perhaps he did. He was quite thankful when another voice took over, a growling fury from another corner of his mind. Siebren didn't have the energy to question it, nor where it itself had come from. The next thing he knew he was not afraid. He was furious, indignant, or was he? Was that him? It didn't...feel like him...then who?

_Release me! _

The man panicked once more, rending his mind back from the darker force that coiled through it now. Where had it come from? Who was he? He was Siebren de Kuiper, Siebren de Kuiper, Siebren de Kuiper, and he'd dropped his mind and it shattered all over the floor and the pieces, the pieces were sharp and he was gathering them up, chest heaving in panic, gathering up all the little shards and slicing his hands open, gathering them up and cradling them to his chest, why were there teardrops on the floor among it all, who was crying?

_What is that melody? _

Ah! It was the melody, of course, of course, of course! They all agreed. The melody was weeping. But then, but then, but then why was his face stricken damp with tears? No, it couldn't be _he _who was crying. Not one of them was crying. Not one? Siebren spun around, where? Where had _they _come from? They looked just like him, and yet—

_Hold it together! Hold it together! Hold it together!_

All three spoke in unison; one in fear, one in fury, one in indifference.

_Density...mass...momentum...it is too—_

He remembered the theories, they mesmerised him for a moment and Siebren fell into blissful calm. Ah, but the answer to the posited theory was awful, but at least it was simple. Simple and clear and calming:

—_It's too much to hold onto. _

Siebren's mouth twitched into a smile. Eureka! He had his answer! Density! Mass! Momentum! It was too much to hold on to! That was where it had all f-f-fallen apart.

_I will bring you a new understanding of the univ—_

Triumph! And yet, why did he feel...scorned? Who had wronged him? They were imprisoning him!

—_VIOLENCE._

* * *

"Subject Sigma has been detained for two years now. Gravity fluctuations have not been stabilised during his waking moments. I hypothesise that his exposure to the black hole, though brief to us, may well have been extensive to Subject Sigma's perception. Time itself may have...distorted closer to the black hole. It is impossible to tell how long, from Subject Sigma's perspective, that he was exposed to the black hole. A few minutes to us could have been years to him."

Siebren blinked.

Was...was she talking to _him?_ He wasn't sure.

"Please..." he managed to croak out, and heard a ruffle of clothing to his right as someone jumped. "Please...the music...turn off the music...I cannot bear it any more..."

Something clicked, but the music did not stop.

"Subject Sigma has made reference once again to this music, or as he usually calls it, a _melody_. Unheard by anyone else. I assume this is another side-effect to his exposure to the black hole. If my theory is correct, if, to him, he was exposed for much longer than we realise...the psychological damage of such an event would be, for want of a better phrase, extensive. I will need to study this further to find a cure at a deeper level — if I can find a way to heal Subject Sigma's mental wounds, perhaps he would be able to control—"

"Angela!" A loud voice from outside the room made both its occupants start in shock.

The person jumped again, a click sounding, but the music continued. Siebren tried to look up and over, but he could not move his neck to see who was standing there.

"I'm sorry!" The voice whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you, Siebren! D-Don't panic! I'll fetch someone!"

Despite her pleas, the stranger sounded more panicked than Siebren felt. He just felt drowsy, slow, gods he felt slow. What an awful feeling…

"The universe..." he mumbled to himself long after the footsteps had pattered from the room, leaving him alone once more.

* * *

"My study of Subject Sigma will, regrettably, be coming to an end. Three years have passed and, despite our best efforts, we have not been able to stabilise him. The gravitational events that occur in his vicinity seem to be tied to his state of being, but that in and of itself is unstable. Subject Sigma's manner changes by the day. On a good day, one could have a perfectly reasonable discussion with him. He's even aided me in some of my research regarding nanobiology, though by his own confession it is not his forte, a fresh set of eyes on data can be all that's needed. On such days, he is quite amiable. But...on a bad day...it can be impossible to enter the room. Subject Sigma is capable of repelling anyone who tries to aid him with a gravitational field akin to a shield around himself. When this happens, Subject Sigma often falls into either a catatonic state or utter hysteria. It is not possible to recede the gravitational field around him until he falls asleep. And then...then there's his third self."

Siebren was awake throughout Dr Ziegler's recorded discourse, humming to himself as she did so. It was one way he had found that kept the gravity surges around him somewhat mellow. Or, at the very least, they were predictable, ebbing and flowing in time to the music. Dr Ziegler had become accustomed to this, moving around the room as the sparse furnishings shifted and rose or fell. "His third self is a rarity, often only emerging if he cannot calm himself in a panicked state. The third seems to display a much greater control of Subject Sigma's powers...however, he either has no capacity or no desire to do so in a peaceful manner. The third self's use of gravity can only be described as violent."

Siebren felt his heart fall a little.

He did not much like Dr Ziegler, but she had been his only visitor these last three years. Speaking to him, she was nothing short of kind and polite. But to her little dictaphone, she was rather less so, despite him being in earshot.

Perhaps she thought he would forget.

* * *

"_The universe is singing to me!"_

That was the explanation Siebren had reached. What else could it be? The melody that had haunted him, the refrain that surged behind his ears and in his head over and over, over and over, over and over...only one other thing was as constant. The universe.

The universe was singing for him, but why?

_What is that melody?!_

It frightened him. No, it infuriated him. No, it intrigued him. No, it frightened him. No, it infuriated him. No, it intri—

He couldn't hold it together. He tried. He told them he was trying, but Siebren couldn't bring the fluxes in gravity to heel. The more he tried, the more he panicked. The more he panicked, the more unstable the pulses and shifts in gravity became.

A danger to himself and others, they had said, as they restrained him with chemicals and belts. It was the only way, he heard them say, as he felt his mind fog over and his eyelids grow heavy.

_Freedom. Imprisonment, _Siebren thought bitterly to himself as he drifted away.

His days awake and days sleep blurred together seamlessly.

_It's all an illusion, _he reassured himself. It didn't matter if he was asleep or awake. Siebren would live inside his mind until he had figured it out, tortured himself with, no, figured it out.

Why did the universe sing to him so?

* * *

"...Dr De Kuiper?"

He could see her well enough. Her pale, thin face, mismatched eyes looking ever-so-slightly fearfully and, if Siebren was not mistaken, a little _sorrowfully_ at him.

She was like an echo. He thought he recognised her. But from where? A tiny, tattered particle of a memory, one long-since addled by his exposure to the black hole, floated through his mind and landed in his palm, but slipped between his fingers and disappeared. Ah, but she reminded him of someone…

Not that Siebren could say. With the drugs and sedatives roiling through him, as commonplace in the last twenty years or so as his own blood, Siebren could do little more than blink slowly to show he had heard her.

The woman frowned a little, brow furrowing, jaw clenching.

"I thought you were dead..."

_Am I not? _Siebren wondered mildly, grey eyes tracking the red-haired woman as she began tinkering with the machines around him, investigating the many tubes and drips fastened to him. There was more than a little distaste in her voice as she said: "Typical. Something new, something different, and we hide it away and fear it instead of _learning_."

_Yes, _Siebren thought, his slack lips pulling into a ghost of a smile. _I quite agree. We should learn from discovery. I have discovered so much...gravity is a harness. But that's not all. _

He was freed from his restraints, from his prison. But after so long within, his body had failed him. Siebren tried to stand and immediately felt his legs crumple beneath him. He could scarcely feel them anymore, let alone move them.

His arms shook as he held himself up from completely collapsing to the floor.

"Who..." Siebren's voice cracked and strained, used seldom more than his muscles had over the years and wasted away similarly as a result. "Who are you?"

A long silence followed, but Siebren was aware of the woman's burning gaze against him.

"...My name is Moira O'Deorain."

"Oh...and...forgive me, but I don't suppose you know—"

"Your abilities are precisely what brought us here."

"N-no...that's not what I was going to ask you."

Siebren looked up, the muscles of his neck and shoulders protesting as he did so. He felt as though he was looking through fog and mist, but for the life of him, the mismatched eyes of this woman seemed so familiar to him. Familiar enough for him to ask bluntly: "I don't suppose you know my name? You called me 'Dr De Kuiper' before...I hoped you might tell me my full name then..."

Once more, he saw sadness and bitter anger ripple over Moira's face, a bitterness at the world around her. How he knew this to be the case he could not remember any more than he could remember his own name.

"Your name...is Siebren de Kuiper. And you will be caged no longer," Moira promised him, offering her his hand. Something in her tone awoke the other self within Siebren's mind, a low chuckle reverberating in his throat. A wide smile peeled over his face, but he did not move to take her offered hand.

_I have harnessed the harness, _Siebren thought to himself_. A failing body matters not one whit. _

Slowly, he rose to his feet, though they never quite touched the ground. Siebren straightened up, weightless as gravity bent and moulded around him at his will. The display appeared far more fluid than it felt, and already Siebren could sense the fields around him quaking and threatening to lurch out of his grip, explode and twist in the world around him.

_Try to hold it together. _


End file.
